


Heartsick

by alykapedia



Series: Bad Boyfriends [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Getting Together, Identity Reveal, M/M, Pre-Slash, kid does not get his jollies from little boys, there is no actual underage in this despite what the summary may imply
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10049921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: Who in their right mind propositions eight-year-old boys?Kaitou Kid apparently.But then of course it can be argued that the elusive Phantom Thief has never been in his right mind. But still, Conan's never pegged Kid as getting his jollies from little boys, which means--no. That would be wishful thinking on Conan's part. Kid was (probably) just messing with him. Yes, that was it. It's the only possible solution, the only logical one, and to keep his sanity intact, the only answer that Conan has to let himself believe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> /limps back to this fandom. here. take it. i don't want to look at this anymore. 
> 
> this is mostly just an attempt at backstory for the bad boyfriends 'verse, so yeah. 
> 
> hit me up for any mistakes.

The air feels different tonight.

There’s the slightest whisper of cloth, followed by the almost inaudible tap of leather shoes against the concrete floor of the silent rooftop and Conan watches, seemingly spellbound as Kid stands loftily, impossibly radiant against the bright moon. The Phantom Thief’s silhouette alongside the full moon is still a sight to behold even after the countless times he’d borne witness to it, and Conan personally thinks that he will never get tired of seeing the elusive thief’s white figure sailing through the night sky, appearing like some sort of unattainable prize for Conan’s small hands.

(Not that he’ll ever admit that out loud. He has a reputation to maintain after all.)

“Going home empty-handed, Kid?” Conan asks conversationally, a knowing lilt to his grin as Kid begins to walk towards him, each step punctuated with an excited thump of his heart.

And it’s weird, because there was a time when Conan would’ve taken a hasty step back for every haphazard one the thief took, hackles rising as Kid drew ever closer, but now, he merely watches and waits as Kid stops a few scant meters away from him like always. Close enough for Conan to lob a ball at the thief if wants to, but far enough for Kid to safely blab away without fear of getting a tranquilizer dart to the face.

Not that Conan ever feels the need to take to his _tools_ during these meetings.

“Good evening to you too, tantei-kun.”

Kid greets amiably with a teasing smile adorning his lips, lone visible eye crinkling in barely-concealed amusement as he tips his hat off to Conan. And Conan, in typical Conan fashion, rolls his eyes derisively in response. Kid stifles a laugh, such a lovely audience, his little detective was.

“And well,” the thief starts, exaggeratedly pursing his lips as if in thought and earning himself a long-suffering sigh. “I guess that depends, my dear little critic.” He continues, lips morphing into a wide grin when Conan affords him a curious eyebrow.

“Depends on what?” Conan ends up asking and Kid shrugs, shoulders moving sinuously underneath the white suit, ruffling the pristine cape. And it shouldn’t be as interesting as Conan’s mind is making it out to be.

It’s just Kid and his stupid shoulders and his equally stupid cape, there’s no reason to stare so openly, no need for him to make an even bigger fool of himself.

“Oh, a few things,” the thief replies airily, flapping a gloved hand. There’s a growing itch on the back of his neck that’s telling him to leave, to stop this conversation with Conan, to drop this attempt at finding out what’s inside this Pandora’s box he’s trying to pry open. But Kid ignores it; there’s no time for his doubts, not right now. He’s never going to pluck up the courage for this again if he backs out now, and Kid feels that if he doesn’t take this chance—

“If you must know, tantei-kun,” he begins, quashing down the uncertainty and Kaito’s warning murmurs at the back of his mind, as he takes a calculated step forward, going past the unspoken line and into foreign territory. Slight surprise flits through his detective’s face, quickly overtaken by interest when Kid takes another step. “I had no intention of stealing the gem in the first place,” he admits reverently like a confessor would.

Conan barely bats an eyelash at the confession; he’s known that from the very start.

It’s nothing new, but why does it feel as if Kid’s thrown him a bone?

He licks his lips, forced to crane his neck to look at the thief due to the sudden proximity. Kid’s dancing to a different tune tonight and Conan can’t help but feel just a tad bit annoyed at being thrown off the loop.

“Then why are you here?” Conan finally asks, giving in and taking the bait. If Kid wants him to ask, then ask he shall. He’s pretty sure that whatever answer Kid would give him would be nothing short of interesting.

A beat of silence, and then Kid was tilting his head, dark blue eye regarding the little detective before he drops to one knee in a single fluid motion. “I’m here to try and steal something else.”

(At the very back of his mind, Kaito’s telling him to _stopstopstop_ and _don’tdon’tdont’t_.

Kid tunes him out.)

Annoyingly vague answer? Check.

Conan doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes.

He doesn’t even know why he expected Kid’s answer to be anything but vague. But the idiot thief has another thing coming if he thinks that he can get away with just that; Conan’s in the mood for decent answers tonight and he’ll be damned if he didn’t get them.

“And what’s that?” The detective demands with a sharp scowl, but the question ends in a startled noise when a gloved hand gingerly touches his elbow, “Kid?”

“Humor me, tantei-kun.”

And if it were any other person, warning bells would have sounded inside Conan's head, but it was just Kid.

Just Kid.

Just the idiot thief who steals things and gives them back.

Just Conan's rival and occasional ally. 

The worst the thief could do was duct-tape him to the wall or knock him out with sleeping gas, unlike the criminals Conan was so used to. (And perhaps that's the reason why he's so eager to go to a Kid heist. _No one gets hurt_. The thief makes sure of that to the point that he's the one who gets hurt instead.)

It’ just Kid and there's nothing to worry about.

So Conan lets the hand slide down his arm, suede whispering tenderly against his skin before encircling a delicate wrist and he allows Kid to reel him in closer, until he can hear nothing but the sound of Kid's breathing, until he can see his own confused gaze reflected on Kid’s monocle. They were so close, so close that if Conan wanted to, he can just reach out and pluck away the monocle and knock the hat off, take the mask away and catch the Phantom Thief once and for all.

But Conan doesn’t take the chance; instead he presses a small hand against a surprisingly warm cheek and asks the question that the nervous flutter of Kid’s eyelashes is daring him to ask.

_“What are you trying to steal, Kid?”_

And then Kid smiles a brittle smile, reaching up a gloved hand to cover Conan’s bare one to pluck it away from his cheek. The words his little detective wants are at the very tip of his tongue, tasting of tart hope and bitter rejection, and Kid knows that there is no turning back once he’s said them.

He deftly turns Conan’s hand over on his palm, dark blue eye never leaving the boy’s face as he presses chapped lips to the back of a clammy hand.

( _He’ll hate us,_ Kaito calls out and Kid almost, _almost_ falters.)

_“Your heart.”_

**Author's Note:**

> i still have exams and i question my life choices so hard


End file.
